


Victory

by Anonymous



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Clothed Sex, M/M, formal wear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:48:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24279118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Emhyr conquers the last of the known world and comes back to celebrate with his witcher.
Relationships: Emhyr var Emreis/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Comments: 2
Kudos: 143
Collections: Anonymous





	Victory

Geralt stood up as soon as he heard Emhyr’s footsteps down the hallway and still he was barely upright before Emhyr was on him. 

They crashed together onto the desk in Emhyr’s office, documents and paperweights crashing to the ground. Geralt absorbed the brunt of the fall and caught the far edge of the desk to keep them from sliding off. Emhyr was busy ripping off Geralt’s pants. 

Geralt fumbled with his own belt to help Emhyr. Witcher armor was designed to stay on no matter the determination of an angered wyvern or an amorous emperor. He undid the three buckles and catches on his belt and went to rip off his jerkin. Emhyr stilled his hands. 

“Keep it on,” Emhyr ordered, with the force of the Empire of Nilfgaard behind his voice. Geralt ignored the empire but reluctantly obeyed the man. Geralt's jerkin was grandmaster witcher fare, as enhanced as Lafargue could make it, and it had been died Nilfgaard black with gold plated hardware. More than ever in his life, Geralt looked like he belonged to someone. “Good.”

Emhyr shoved Geralt’s pants down under his ass and pressed him over the desk. Geralt shifted to get a stray pen from stabbing his chest and spread his legs as much as he could with his pants where they were. 

There was a crystal flask of oil in the top drawer of Emhyr's desk and Geralt grabbed it and passed it back to Emhyr. Emhyr barely used it, briskly lubing up his cock and pressing it straight into Geralt. Geralt bit his arm and groaned as Emhyr pressed in. 

With all the planning for the final coronation of Emhyr as emperor of the known world, there had barely been time for handjobs much less this. Still, Geralt’s body was mutated to withstand anything and this was much more pleasurable than his usual way of testing his body’s limits. 

The stretch burned but Emhyr was relentless, fucking inward with small, hard thrusts that had Geralt feeling used in the best way. 

Emhyr’s hand ran up the thick dragon-skin of Geralt’s jerkin to grip the back of his neck. 

“I like seeing you in my colors,” Emhyr said and pulled out to thrust back in in one harsh push. 

Geralt shouted and grinned. The emperor of the known world had a massive array of people available to him but he’d chosen a prickly Witcher who was gone half the time and rarely obeyed his orders. Geralt didn’t let him leave hickeys or attend feasts at his side but occasionally he would show up in Emhyr’s colors and the show of ownership drove Emhyr wild. 

This time he’d been away killing the last of the Drowned Dead along the banks of Novigrad’s river. He’d found several thiefs’ caches along the way and managed to come home a little richer even though he was barely paid for his actual work. 

Emhyr had been more interested in the information that theives were storing their treasure in boxes along the river bed than he was in the treasure itself. Geralt had sold off the rubies and sapphires, and provided the grandmaster armorsmith with dragon hide from his latest kill to make his current outfit. It would be good enough armor to wear on a hunt, but he planned on leaving it here, were it would do him the most good. 

Emhyr dragged his nails across the black dragon hide and thumbed at a gold buckle on Geralt’s hip. 

“I would have had this made for you, if I had known you would wear it,” Emhyr said, starting up a rhythm that had Geralt seeing stars. 

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Geralt gasped. For an emperor who never needed to care about the pleasure of others, Emhyr was a talented lover. He found Geralt’s prostate and began to hit it with every thrust. 

Geralt felt the rough weeks on the road begin to melt from his back. Each jolt of pleasure has his pelvic floor seizing up and his other muscles melting. He gripped the edge of the desk tighter and rolled his hips back into Emhyr’s thrusts.

Emhyr snarled and snapped his hips forward, fucking him harder. 

Geralt fumbled with the front of his shirt, reaching inside it for where his wolf medallion was pressing uncomfortably against his chest. 

“Emhyr,” Geralt said, dragging Emhyr’s gaze away from his clothing. Geralt tossed his necklace over his shoulder and it landed wolf side down. 

Emhyr’s hips stilled. 

Geralt held his breath and pictured what Emhyr was seeing. It had taken a while to find an engraver with the necessary talent and supplies to execute his vision properly. Normally Geralt wouldn’t have cared how it turned out but this was his medallion. If anyone was going to take a graver to it, they better not fuck it up. 

Emhyr picked up the medallion, drawing the chain tight around Geralt’s neck. Geralt craned his head around to try and see Emhyr’s expression. 

He looked stunned. His usually guarded face was open and surprised, in a way Geralt had only seen him look when Ciri revealed another otherworldly talent.


End file.
